


The Memory of Breathing

by Adarian



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 23:59:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13728756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adarian/pseuds/Adarian
Summary: Dancing with Nick, Lilah's crisis over her feelings for him come to a head and she realizes that nothing is certain in life or love.





	The Memory of Breathing

**Author's Note:**

> I read a post on tumblr suggesting Nick/Sole dancing to "La Vie en Rose" and that inspired this. Now let us listen to some Edith Piaf and cry in French together.

_It's not real._

Lilah had said it to herself a thousand times, slipping into a disassociation that could protect her from the world around her. She behaved as she would if it was waking life but held on to the impossible thought that this was not her life. She didn't believe it, but she had so badly wanted to. The mantra was comforting enough to help her survive the first few months in this new world.

Now those words meant something different to her. She wasn't rejecting the world around her but her own foolish feelings. How she felt wasn't real. It couldn't be real. It was a fantasy and one that would only hurt her if she kept pretending. 

Nick Valentine was real. She did not doubt his friendship or his loyalty. She did not doubt his kindness or cleverness. He wasn't human, but he was a person. A good one, one of the best she had ever met, really. 

But how much of that was adaptive programming and how much of it was a ghost? Was it the remnant of the dead Nick Valentine she was dancing with or was it a synth who had found his own soul? Did it matter? 

His stripped hand moved to the small of her back, his synthetic one still clasping hers. His yellow eyes were surely programmed to dilate at the sight of her, some cruel mimicry of admiration. But desire? But love? It wasn't real, none of it could be real. Why had he asked her to dance? Why had he chosen this song, of all songs?

To live in a world with blooming roses again, to be transported to the comforting days of Before. To have nothing matter but the man holding her close. It wasn't real. None of it was real. Just an echo, just a fantasy, just a tease of what could have been and what could never be.

Lilah didn't realize she was crying until Nick brushed her tears away with his thumb. The gesture made her heart ache even more. 

"What's wrong, doll?" He asked gently.

That voice. Had that been Valentine's voice? A standard program? Where had that beautiful, gravely voice come from? It was the voice of a heavy smoker from someone who had never had lungs. Sometimes he still held cigarettes as habit, just let them slowly burn out between his fingers or in a nearby ashtray as he worked. Was it the smell he loved or did he love the memory of breathing? 

Unable to speak, she smiled weakly and shrugged. 

He seemed uncertain at first and then a smile crept across his face. "You know, you're not Valentine's type."

Lilah laughed in surprise. "Oh?"

Nick explained, "He was more into those California blondes. Girls who liked sunshine, white sand beaches, and surfing. Girls who didn't have a care in the war. He would have thought you were too serious."

"Do you have type then?" She asked hesitantly. "Separate from his?" 

"Strangely I do," he admitted. "I've developed a liking for tragic, raven-haired women with perfect timing and terrible luck. I don't know if you can call it a type if it's only the one, but if I've got one, it's...well, it's you." 

Lilah's heart raced and she looked away, resting her head on his chest. A chest that quietly whirred under her ear but otherwise absent of sound. 

_It's not real._

Nick apologized, "I'm sorry. That wasn't a real romantic way to tell you that."

As the song ended and the next began, she looked up into his eyes. She shivered as his fingers brushed again against her cheek. He looked hurt, as if she had grimaced at his touch. 

It wasn't that he was man made, Lilah realized. If he were flesh and blood, she would have the same doubts. Because she couldn't fathom anyone wanting or needing the quivering mess she was. Because no one should look at her the way he did. 

She managed to say, "Nick..."

"It's okay," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have said anything."

Lilah murmured, "No, I'm glad you did. I just...I feel lost. I feel so lost and I don't know where to go from here. We can't go back to who we were before the war. But I don't know what happens next."

"That's up to you," he asked, his voice hitching. "What do you want to happen?"

She confessed, "I want you to love me." 

When he kissed her, he didn't press his metal hand against her back. The hand that cupped her face was just as gentle. Something in her chest eased as they parted. He didn't kiss her as some muscle memory of humanity. He had kissed her fully aware of his body, fully aware of how he could hurt her if he was not careful. He had kissed her as Nick.

"I don't know how this is going to work," he admitted, a grin sneaking across his face. "But I'm happy to figure out the logistics if you are."

That's what they did. Figure things out together, put pieces back together. Just the two of them, knowing the other had their back. They usually had no idea what they were doing at first, but they always found a way. She didn't need to have all the answers tonight. She just needed to be with him.

She leaned against his shoulder again, oddly content in her insecurities as the chanteuse's words softened. 

_No, I regret nothing._  
Because my life, my joys,  
Today they begin with you. 


End file.
